Tuesday's appointment was hard. I've been on an increased dose of chemo for a little over a week now. The platelets are supposed to be moving down. They aren't; they're moving up. My doctor is stumped and wants to move the dose up one more time. At this dosage, I'm likely to loose my hair. My body is tired now, and with an increased dose, I'm likely to pass into exhaustion. I've said to a few friends this week that I'm not really scared any more - God has my life and the world post-Zandree all under way better control than I could fathom - I'm just a little sad that it's not different. I wish I could learn the lesson, bring glory to the Lord, and then receive the miraculous turn around I've been waiting for. Sometimes, though, that's just not how it works. And God is there then, too.
I think many of us want the miracle story when we're hit with hard circumstances. Several people around us have been there, too. In our short time in our community, we've known three different families who have had very premature children. I wonder if they were looking for the miracle as they walked the hospital halls night after night, month after month. I wonder if they questioned God's presence in their lives as they let their babies undergo surgeries instead of giving them tummy time and nursing them to sleep in their rocking chairs at home. We've had friends undergo prolonged, intense struggles as they've tried to build a business and become beautiful, Godly influences in some really dark places in our community only to endure trial after trial after trial with no sign of impending relief. We've had friends loose loved ones, friends loose spouses through divorce, friends loose employment. I wonder if they, like us, have asked God, "What is the point, and when is the miracle coming?" We are not the only ones walking through difficulty, and God, I believe, is present with us all.
I've been reading through the Old Testament over the past few months. I know that some don't particularly enjoy the Old Testament in their study of God's Word, but I really, really love it. I love the language and the development of the characters and stories. I love the meta-narrative of God pursuing His people across time with a love so deep He'd look past the grief of His heart to find a way to redeem them even while they spit in His face. I'm in Ezekiel right now, and my goodness, what the prophets have to teach us about suffering! Hosea, a prophet grieved by Israel's sin and who loved his God deeply, was told to take a prostitute as a wife not once, but twice, the second time buying her back from her lover she left her faithful Hosea to be with. Jeremiah was starved, beaten, imprisoned, summoned to prophesy for the king and then beaten and starved for doing that. Ezekiel was given God's word, shown our God's incredible glory, and told ahead of time that his own stubborn people were not going to listen to a word he said, ever.
I'm not all the way through Ezekiel this time yet, but I wonder if he ever wondered, "What is the point, and when is the miracle coming?" He hurt for Israel to see what they were doing and to repent. But Ezekiel doesn't get to see his people repent. In fact, he's humiliated and scoffed at by his community. Jeremiah, though he got to stay in the promised land during exile, never lived to see the remnant return to the inheritance God had given them as a precious gift. Hosea never had a faithful wife who turned from her prostitution and loved Him. Even in a culture where the collective consciousness said that property, power,and physical, kingdom-wide success was not just an indication but absolutely equivalent with the very blessing of God, most of his most devoted servants suffered terribly at the hands of their own people, ending (or maybe just beginning, really) with Jesus. God didn't spare them, and he didn't abandon them. I know in my heart of hearts that God's design is at least sometimes bigger than our happiness, our physical comfort, our personal relationships, and even our very lives. When I'm not stuck in my head and when I'm bowed before my God in the deepest, most sincere worship, I am beyond willing to let Him do with my life whatever He will. And it will be my greatest joy to honor Him with my suffering if that is something with which I could honor Him more than with my peace and wellness.
Tony held Secret Church (a 6-hour Bible study) at our house last week (which I love, because I get to go). We were going through Romans, and we were talking about the verse that reads, "God works out all things for the good of those who love Him." We talked a little bit about how this verse is used to communicate to hurting people that they will see some benefit come out of the suffering they're enduring. Tony made a good point (albeit a hyperbolized one) when he said that if anyone uses this in this way when he's hurting, he's going to punch that person in the face. This verse is hard to hear in our pain. Our pastor, who is a beautifully and carefully studied man concerning God's Word, made the point earlier in the conversation that "good" can only be defined by Christ and that becoming more like Him and helping others do the same is the only good there really is as He is the source and the habitation of all goodness and every good thing. I believe that this is truth. This verse then, in light of that definition, means that God works out all things for the becoming-more-like-Him of those who love Him. All things, all things God uses in us to produce Christ-likeness and to render us closer to Him. And THAT is goodness. Carol Kent, in When I Lay My Isaac Down, references a snippet from a Max Lucado book called Grace for the Moment in which he includes an inscription written by a prisoner that was preserved on the walls of of a concentration camp for Jews in WWI. It reads:
"I believe in the sun, even though it doesn't shine,
I believe in love, even when it isn't shown.
I believe in God, even when he doesn't speak."
It is doubtful that this prisoner ever got miracle or understood the point, but I know that God is good, and I know that God used this person's circumstances for "good" as it has been defined above, even if those circumstances never, ever changed for the better. And so in our suffering, in our pain, in our difficult Tuesdays, for the Jeremiahs, Hoseas, and Ezekiels of our time, and even for our friends who've walked in places where they've been brought to ask, "What's the point, and when is the miracle coming?" God works, speaks, and moves us toward the pure, unadulterated joy of the deepest love on earth, yes even when the miracle never comes.
Praise the Lord. Amen.
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